PREVIEW
... pine-to-hands, everything-trembling, I-am-at-the-edge trembling of a woman whose body had been at the edge since entry and was being maintained at the edge by the flat, present, unhurried, no-reduction-in-output pace of a Nascent Soul Mid Stage cultivator who had not varied his output once.
"’—I will die—’" Her voice, thinner. The flat, genuinely-at-capacity, not-performing quality of a woman who was at the edge of her architecture and was reporting it. "’—my lord—I will actually die—I a ...
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